Remembering Sunday
by James Mcpherson
Summary: A story told in the mind of a boy who can't handle life. His world spins when a mystery boy shows up.


Chapter One

My name is Vincent Hart and I have a problem; I m gay and can t bring myself to talk to any boys, except one. This is the story of my dream come true turned worst nightmare.

I walked through the classroom door like any other day and headed for my usual seat in the back of the room, away from most people s attention. Little did I know that today I would meet the boy who would change my life forever; or at least the foreseeable future.

As I sat down I carelessly tossed my black messenger bag onto the desk next to me and laid my head in my arms, preparing to go to sleep. The room suddenly got very loud as a new boy entered the room, preventing me from drifting off into oblivion. I raised my head and looked over at him, immediately my interest was perked. My eyes explored every inch of him, taking in all his details. His hair was a soft, fluffy brown that looked like he chopped it off with a pair of hedge clippers. He was very tall and fit; you could almost make out his muscles through his loose-fitting army shirt. His eyes, shaped like large almonds, were the color of newly grown grass on a spring morning. His lips had soft curves, the color of black raspberry ice cream, and appeared to be soft and kissable.

After I had been staring for about 10 minutes the boy finally looked at me and all my blood instantaneously went to my cheeks. My hair fluttered everywhere as I swung my head away from him and buried it in my arms; feigning sleep. I could hear his soft, deliberate footsteps coming towards me as I tried to calm my breathing; which had become extremely labored, bordering on hyperventilation. The next sound I heard wasn t his voice but an odd scraping sound coming from the desk next to me. As I puzzled this new sound the answer became abundantly clear as I felt my messenger bag pelt me in the head as he laid it on me. This event flustered me and as a result I grabbed my bag, pulled it down, and turned my head towards him aggressively, I was about to start yelling except all my anger dissipated when I saw the coy smile on his face.

Now, if you don t mind me asking, what was so fascinating about me that you were staring at? Did I have something on my face? In my hair? On my pants? Or were you just checking me out? , the entire time he spoke the smile never left his face, and when he finished he gave me a little wink that made my throat close up and my boxer-briefs tighten.

My reply came slowly as I had to cough a couple times to get the words to come out, Uh well you had something in your pants, and that s why I was staring. After I said this my head almost exploded with protest. Although what I was saying was true, there was absolutely no reason to reveal this to him. I looked away from him then, not wanting to invite a reply, and directed my attention to the front of the classroom where the teacher was just entering.

The screeching sound of the metal pointer on the chalkboard caused the entire class to cringe, scream, and grab their ears in pain. After the pain subsided and everyone was paying firm attention to the teacher, he started his latest lecture on the many theories of how J.F.K. was assassinated. It was a thoroughly boring subject for most of the class, though I could see a few of the more political guys were listening intently. Almost ten minutes went by before I finally fell asleep and started dreaming; though my dreams were not things you d see on television.

I awoke to a rapid poking from the desk next to me; and get your head outta the gutter, that s not what I meant. I wipe my eyes and look up at the clock and see there s about seven minutes left in the class. I saw that I was saved from an embarrassing scene of having the teacher wake me up. I turn to the new boy and immediately my cheeks grow flush and I stumble over my thanks. He shrugs and smiles at me with that coy look from before. Then when he licks his lips and gets ready to speak, my mouth starts watering.

I just thought I d wake you up before you got in trouble. It pained me to do it though, you were looked quite cute sleeping , was what he said as I fixed my desk head.

So what should I call you? Sergeant Green Eyes? , I asked, referring to his jacket.

No, I think Nicholas would be fine; though I wouldn t mind being Lt. Major Green Eyes , since that what my father was.

Nicholas? As in Saint Nicholas, Santa Claus? Did you bring me a present? I whispered almost incoherently, as my cheeks flushed and my eyes slid down his body to his pants, which had a curiously large budge in them.

A look of shock crossed his face for only a moment before his cheeks and ears turned a deep beet red, I don t know. I ll check my bag and see if any packages have your name on them. If I find one I ll call you, I ll need your cell phone number.

I wrote down my number and handed it to him before I even realized what I was doing, His line was so good that it was almost undetectable; this was something I liked very much. Just after he entered it in his phone the class bell rang and everyone scrambled to leave the room, including my mystery boy.

The line for lunch was almost clear to the office when I got to it; I sighed in annoyance and took my place at the end. Just then I heard someone calling my name; it was hard to hear considering the person was about halfway up the line. I looked around a minute and realized that it was Nicholas, my dream boy that was calling out to me. My heart was pounding as I tried to decide if I should stay where I was and keep my spot, or go to Nicholas and potentially half to go back to the end. My feet start moving before I even decide, driven by a force I can t control. As I come up to him my lips become chapped and I lick them several times, Hey Major, what did you want?

That s Lt. Major, and I wanted you to come over here and stand in line with me. It makes no sense for you to wait all the way back there when I m perfectly willing to have you stand in front of me.

Well I would like that too, but what about the forty kids behind you in line? Won t they mind that I m cutting half of them to get here?

I don t care if they mind, I want you to stand here with me, and if they have a problem with that they can shove it somewhere moist and unpleasant.

Well, that does answers my question , I said bluntly, taking my place slightly ahead of him and to the right, turning around to face him, You don t take crap from anyone huh? I like that; I don t think I would every tell anyone to shove it, even if they hit me in the head with a messenger bag.

Okay I admit that was a bit over-the-top, but I had to get your attention or you would never have talked to me. Apparently my ingenious, uncalled for, violence was a good thing, don t you think?

Yes, yes it was. My head injury was quite a good thing. Now where are we going to sit? The table I normally sit at is for only one person; my lap.

That sounds good to me. I would very much like to eat off your lap, but let s eat at a table here, don t want to cause a scene on my first day.

I give out a small cough and almost drop my tray of food all over the floor as I hear his comment, Hwah yes let us use a table, since I doubt I could make it to my normal spot now.

We made our way over to a deserted table by the window and looked out on the rainy day outside. Oddly enough neither of us talked at all while we ate, not even daring to throw a line in the water. As I was eating I began to watch him; study him. The way he ate was soft and slow, nothing like the way I scarfed down my nutrition as if I hadn t eaten in days. His eyes had a sad, unsatisfied look to them as he watched the rain fall outside; the voice of it mimicking the way a shower sounds before anyone gets under the water. My mouth stopped chewing as it dawned on me that I had no idea who this boy was, but we had already become the best of friends; maybe even more.

The classes at the end of the day always seem to move through time more slowly than the rest and today that is extremely true, since now have I something to go home to write and daydream about. My notebook fills up with doodles of his face, and of his name; some are quite risqu .


End file.
